Since I was a teenager, Christmas has been a difficult time for me. My parents separated immediately after Christmas when I was 14 or 15. Suddenly the holidays were split between Mom’s family and Dad’s. Though my parents never “fought” over us, my sister and I were nevertheless shuttled between Bridgeville and Crafton, sometimes further, depending on who was in town that year.
I lost my job at Starbucks a few days before Christmas is 2008. My mom moved in the same week, and it was extremely difficult for both of us.
For many years, I cried at the sight of Christmas lights because they reminded me of the times before my parents separated – decorating the tree, listening to the Beach Boys’ Christmas album (which my dad later admitted he hated), and watching Mom make Christmas cookies (I wasn’t allowed to help, probably because I was so clumsy). For years, I cried because I never had a date for Christmas. I was lonely. Even as a fairly well-adjusted person, and a person with a strong faith, I had a hard time during the holidays. I can see how someone who was struggling with depression or a serious life change might have an even harder time.
The first Christmas I allowed myself to really enjoy was the one immediately before my wedding. Christmas 2009 saw my bridal shower, some weight loss, and a general sense of excitement and hope. I was going to be married two weeks later! My first Christmas as a wife was rather disappointing, though, as Ross and I got our signals crossed about gift-giving and there was some miscommunication that I almost let ruin the whole day (fortunately we can laugh about it now).
The next two Christmases were marked by loss. In August of 2011 and in May and September of 2012, we lost our babies – not to mention several friends of the family near the holidays, as well. Christmas was hard. Seeing images of that sweet little Baby in His mother’s arms, singing songs to the infant Savior, and passing by Nativity scenes showing the adoration of the Christ – it was all so very emotional. Times like that, I was grateful for a small family. I didn’t have dozens of cousins with babies of their own showing up at family parties. Instead, I grew closer with my dad’s family – it’s just my Grandma, my aunt and uncle. We live close together, and grieve together.
This year, we lost my mother in February and Ross’s grandmother in July – and then, a dear friend suffered a miscarriage just recently. We admit, we’re getting to that age where people and things are beginning to pass away. The knowledge that our friends have lost jobs, lost parents and grandparents and unborn babies, lost their faith…it doesn’t make things easier. We’ve had a tough four years, Ross and I. We can say, with all modesty, that we’re grateful we’ve stuck it out. We know people have gotten divorced for far less than what we’ve gone through. We are grateful to God, our church, and our family and friends who have been understanding and supportive through all of our trials. They have helped us laugh, let us grieve, encouraged us to hope, and loved us faithfully.
This year, Christmas was different.
Christmas Eve marked the end of our first trimester.
Yes, we’re pregnant.
And this baby is going to make it.
We found out on Halloween (what a treat, huh?), although I knew it about a week prior – in spite of a negative test. Since I’d switched OB-GYNs after my second miscarriage and received excellent, sympathetic and professional care with my third loss, I knew that I would be given a lot of attention this time around. Earlier genetic testing and blood work had revealed that there was nothing “wrong” with either of us. We prayed, waited, and wondered, and felt that it was best to try again this past fall. My doc put me on progesterone even before we conceived, in order to help my body support a pregnancy. It must have worked. We’ve seen or heard the heartbeat four times now, and the baby is growing at a steady rate. I’ve been praying over the baby regularly, and the verse that was quickened to me was John 10:10, “The enemy has come to steal, kill, and destroy, but I have come to that you may have life, and life abundant.” These are the words of Jesus and have brought me great comfort. Although we believe that our other children are in Heaven, they never got to experience the joy of getting to know Jesus – the journey of walking with Him, of turning from sin and choosing a life of love and hope. This child will have that opportunity – not just for eternal life, like his or her siblings have already received, but for a fulfilling and joyful life with Christ on this earth.
Still, the “perfect pregnancy” I was hoping for, alas, is not a reality yet. When I started to bleed around 7 weeks, I was rushed in for a ultrasound, but nothing was determined other than the baby was fine. Two weeks later, I went back for a follow-up and we learned that I have a very common condition – a subchorionic hematoma. That’s a super-fancy name for a bleed in the uterus. It’s rarely a problem for the growing baby, but it can cause a lot of bleeding and inconvenient (ie., terrifying, especially for a woman who has lost three babies). The problem with mine was that, at least at 9 weeks, it was the same size as the placental sac. Fortunately, problems arise in only about 1% of pregnancies with hematoma. In fact, a very recent study, done in October of 2013, revealed that the rate of miscarriage among women with hematoma was no higher than women without them, provided that a viable pregnancy had been established (ours has). That was so encouraging, even though I bled nearly every day for almost six weeks. Happily, a late December check-up revealed that the hematoma had dramatically shrunk in size and my bleeding had stopped. Baby was growing!
Please know that, although this is really thrilling and life-changing, it is so scary to share it with you. Although I believe this is finally “it”, and we’ll get to hold this little one in our arms in this lifetime, there’s still a bit of doubt nibbling at me. Why wouldn’t there be? I have a strong faith and friends who encourage me, but what woman, after three losses, wouldn’t be terrified to tempt fate? I am fortunate that my friends – especially the older women at church – have spoken life over me, spoken God’s promises over me, and spoken words of hope and prophecy to me. It helps so much to know that I’m not the only one who wants to meet this baby! There are dozens of people praying daily, and for me, that is a great comfort and it gives me strength. These aren’t people who are whimpering weakly before God, ‘Please let the baby live!’ These are people who understand their authority in Christ, and who boldly come before God and remind him of his promises – as he commanded. People who have been speaking scriptures over me, who have confidence when I do not.
I’m “going public” now, even though I am afraid, because I know that there are childless women who read my blog. I know that there are women who still grieve over their losses who read it. I know there are men who don’t know how to help their wives, sisters, and daughters, who are struggling to have children, who read it. I want to encourage others. I want to open up my heart and share my journey. Those who know me well know that writing is healing for me.
We specifically chose this day to reveal our big news because it would have been my mom’s 59th birthday. We wanted to be able to remember today as a joyful day, when we got to share something special with our friends, rather than a day that “should have been”. It’s the best way I can think of right now to honor her.
Thank you for coming on this journey with us.
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